


Quentin gets a Nap

by rapono



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, because someone lets him, finally after all these years, my sleepy son gets the sleep he deserves, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 00:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapono/pseuds/rapono
Summary: Despite being in the middle of a trial, he can't help it. His body gives up the fight, and Quentin passes out.





	Quentin gets a Nap

**Author's Note:**

> so I bought the elm street dlc and I love my tired AF son.
> 
> ~~I definitely didn't buy it for burnt pepperoni man, he was the bonus I never wanted.~~

Quentin was so tired, so very very tired. 

Not that it wasn’t usual for him to be so, but this trial he especially felt it. He was out of it, barely able to think of where he was going, as he stumbled around aimlessly through the homes of Haddonfield. 

Eventually, he found a generator, kneeling before it, grasping at the wires inside. He was barely able to put it back together, mind too foggy to remember which wire went where. It wasn’t long before it blew up in his face, destroying all the progress he had made.

Damn it. He was useless right now. 

Turning to look for the killer, he instead noticed a couch behind him, a bit dirty and worn out, but a couch nonetheless. And right now, it looked like heaven.

Fuck it, if he was gonna be useless, he might as well get some sleep. Especially since there was no furniture at the campfire.

So he crawled over to the couch, heaving his tired body onto it. Immediately he felt relaxed, the dirty furniture softer than anything he’d tried to sleep on in the entity so far. Eye lids heavy, he gave in, passing out just as a generator went off in the distance.

 

With a yawn, Quentin found himself waking up, oddly enough, right where he had slept. He felt much better, still a bit drowsy, but more rested than usual. He had a dreamless sleep, no Freddy to be found. 

He glanced over at the generator nearby, a bit surprised to find it still wasn’t lit. Nobody had escaped, at least, not yet. It was unnerving to realise such, but he was just glad the killer isn’t found him yet.

Huh, he didn’t remember propping his head up on a pillow.

Just as Quentin was about to get up and have a look, he heard it. The all too familiar breathing, causing him to go rigid as chill ran down his spine. Doing his best not to scream in terror, he looked down at his supposed headrest, and bit back a gasp.

Holy shit, his head was resting on Myers’ lap.

Quentin didn’t know what to do. He was too scared to move, worried that doing so would anger Myers. And there was no way the killer didn’t know he was awake.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the glimmer of the blade, feeling Michael shift beneath him. There was the telltale sound of him hitting tier 3, and Quentin felt his stomach drop.

Fuck it, if he was going to die, he was going to use his newfound energy to give him a fight.

And so Quentin bolted out of the killer's lap, or should one say, tried to. Strong, thick arms wrapped around him, pulling him back and keeping in place. He screamed and struggled, hoping that someone would help him.

The when it it hit him. No one is escaped. He was likely the last one alive. He was alone with Myers.

Eventually he gave up, tiring out into a crumpled crying mess, as Michael guided him back to lying down, the survivor's head resting once again on blood-stained coveralls. He didn’t fight it, now worn out from struggling, and waiting for the bite of the blade.

After all, it would only take one strike.

And yet, it never came.

Instead, a large hand stroked his hair, in a surprisingly comforting motion. It was, nice, and oddly relaxing. Quentin found himself starting to doze off.

He jolted awake, slapping himself in an effort to stay so. He didn’t want to fall asleep in the Shape’s lap.

He only got a couple slaps in before a large hand snatched his wrist, preventing him from slapping himself. His arm was forced back beside him, before Michael let go, and went back to petting him.

Did, did Myers want him to fall asleep again? If so, what did he want to do to him? Why didn’t he just kill him already?

Quentin sighed, giving up the fight and giving in to what he assumed were the killer's demands. Sleep was like striking gold in the entity’s realm, especially with Freddy still haunting him, so he might as well abuse this opportunity. 

So Quentin fell asleep, his head resting on Myers’ legs, a huge hand still gently brushing his backside. It was the most comfortable sleep he’d had in a long time.

When he woke up, he found himself back at the campfire, but with a new spring in his step.

For the first time in a long time, Quentin Smith felt rested.


End file.
